


Professor Yang's New Student

by Snailsway



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailsway/pseuds/Snailsway
Summary: Grouchy Prof Yang x Cute Puppy Eddy
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 28
Kudos: 88





	Professor Yang's New Student

1

Unlike my other students, he showed up to class with a big, hopeful smile, like an overgrown puppy. He probably misunderstood me as some kind of saint. I corrected that notion immediately. After all, I had only taken him in because it was fun to see the looks on those other kids' faces.

"You're nothing special. All of my students win competitions. You'll have to prove yourself if you want to stay on with me."

A look of hurt flashed across his face but, to my surprise, his smile resumed in a second and he nodded resolutely. "Yes Professor Yang, I'll do my best."

It bothered me how cheerful he looked. Maybe that was why I was even harsher than usual, just because I wanted to see the smile fade from his handsome, young face, knock some sense into this naively optimistic child. You can't smile and be nice to everyone in this world, you won't always be rewarded. I wanted to teach him that lesson.

He packed his violin quietly at the end of the hour, broad shoulders drooping with exhaustion and disappointment. "If you can't take it, then don't come back," I told him with cold impatience.

"No!" he exclaimed. Before I could move, he had trotted up to me and was staring at me with his gentle brown eyes, shining earnestly. "I really like you, Professor Yang! I'll work hard this week, promise."

He was considerably younger than me, but his tall, sturdy body towered over me and engulfed me with a clean, crisp scent, like sunshine. My silly old heart sped unconsciously and I felt my face heat up.

"So can I come again...?" he prompted with soft, low voice and pleading eyes.

"...Fine..."

2

I saw him sitting at the picnic tables with a group of young people, all boisterous and chattery. Even from a distance, I could tell that he was grinning, and that his grin seemed to mesmerize the pretty girl next to him.

And why wouldn't it? I had taught him for some weeks now and knew a little bit about his reputation. It was rare these days to find someone so good natured, and nasty competitors aside, he had no lack of admirers.

I watched him for a few more moments, watched the girl touch his arm coyly. Then, suddenly annoyed with myself, I turned and left.

"Wait, Professor Yang! Professor! Wait for me!"

I walked faster, pretending not to hear him. But of course it was futile. I was no match for his youthful vitality, and he caught up in no time. To my surprise though, before saying anything else, he grabbed my hand and pulled me hard, so that my body hit his chest with a dull thud.

"Professor, are you okay?"

I stared at him speechlessly.

An exasperated smile spread across his face. "You were about to walk into traffic. I get it if you don't want to talk to me, but I'd rather you not kill yourself in the process."

My face burned with embarrassment, and I quickly looked away, only to realize that he was still holding my hand. I studied our clasped hands for a moment, baffled, before remembering to pull free. He emitted an amused chuckle and gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting me go.

"Wh-what do you want Chen?" I demanded, trying to recover some of my dignity.

My question seemed to startle him and he suddenly looked shy. "I, uh, wanted to give you something," he said as he rummaged around his backpack. "My friend was teaching me how to make chocolates and, uh, I don't know if they're any good, but, here, just try them."

Without waiting for my response, he thrust a small box in my hands and waved goodbye, jogging back towards his friends.

I stood there motionlessly, my heart pounding in my chest, not sure what to make of it all.

3

Later in February, I began to feel the onset of a bad cold, but because I’d committed to doing a charity concert with an old conductor friend, I popped a few Tylenols and took the train into the city.

In the middle of the concert, I noticed him in the audience. He had bought the best seat in the hall, was leaning forward slightly, and had focused his entire attention on me. I reached the most romantic part of the piece just then, the part where the notes swell sweetly to a climax. That was perhaps why my heart, too, swelled a bit. The only reason.

Afterwards, he found me backstage and sprung a bouquet on me.

“That was so good! Professor, you were amazing!”

I scoffed and pushed the flowers aside. “What are you doing here, Chen? You should be practicing. Do you need more assignments? Maybe a few more etudes—”

“ _Professor_ ,” he lamented. “Anyway, what are you doing now? Since we’re in the city, maybe we should get some good food for once?”

I didn’t like the way he had grown familiar with me, no longer fearing my wrath as he once did. It was unfortunate, made him more difficult to control. I squeezed past him and walked down the hall at a clipped pace. “Going home,” I said with a cough.

He trotted after me like a puppy. “Are you sick, Professor? You looked pretty pale on stage but I thought it was just the lighting. You should take better care of yourself!...”

Somehow, he followed me onto the train and plopped himself right next to me. I was too tired to argue with him and merely huddled into my coat in silence. He clucked his tongue and started to chastise me again, as if I were a child.

“Chen, shut up,” I muttered, my eyes already drifting shut. “Or I won’t teach you anymore…”

I heard him chuckle softly, and then I fell asleep. In my slumber, I thought I felt someone put an arm around me and draw me into an embrace, where I could pillow my head on a warm shoulder. But surely, that was just a dream.

When I woke up, he had already gathered our sparse luggage and was watching me with a grin. “Come on, prof, we’ll miss our stop.”

As we stood in line waiting for taxis, he asked, “Did you like the chocolates…?”

“No,” I replied with a grimace. “They were too sweet.”

His grin widened. “So you ate them!”

“We-well, I-I—”

Thankfully, just then, I had reached the front of the line and there was no time for more chatter. After I got into the taxi, he handed me my bag and stealthily dropped the bouquet on my lap, shutting the door before I could reject it.

4

My birthday coincided with the spring soiree, which all the professors were forced to attend. Already depressed about the passing of yet another year, I watched the young ones drink and flirt without much enthusiasm.

Our eyes met over the fray. He was standing at the other side of the quad, with that pretty girl clinging to his arm. I noticed that she followed him around a lot these days, often waiting for him outside my door. He had tried to explain to me that he told her no, and not to follow him to lessons, but that was unnecessary. It hardly mattered to me what he did, as long as he didn’t embarrass me at competitions.

I gave him a careless wave and wandered away, meandering aimlessly until I reached an obscure courtyard to the side. Other than the music from the main lawn, the yard was silent and empty, just as I liked. I leaned listlessly against a tree and lit a cigarette, watching tendrils of smoke snake up to the stars.

He appeared just as a slight breeze rustled through the branches, inducing a small storm of magnolia petals. They drifted all around me as he stood and stared, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Well, what is it now?” I drawled.

He shuffled over and said, hesitantly, “I wanted to say happy birthday, Professor.”

This forced a small, dry laugh out of me. I tossed my cigarette to the floor and stomped it out. “Gee, thanks for the reminder. Though I suppose you’re still at that age when you look forward to birthdays.”

“I’m almost 22,” he protested with a frown, as if that mattered.

“Run along,” I told him. Go to your friends, your pretty girlfriend, and enjoy your youth. No need to waste a perfectly nice night with an old man like me.

But instead of heeding me, he walked still closer. The student quartet had begun to play a waltz, and he extended his hand with a cheeky smile. “May I have this dance, Professor Yang?”

I stared at him in confusion. He confused me often these days. Chocolates, flowers, unwavering gazes during lessons, faint touches of fingers over cold violin strings…but surely, he was joking.

While I stared, he placed one hand gently on my back and reached for my hand with the other. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

As if hypnotized, my feet followed him automatically even as my mind remained blank. I let him guide me in the intricate steps of the waltz, let his hand slide down to my waist as we danced, let him subtly pulled me closer, centimeter by centimeter, until I could feel the heat from his body, and his breath on my neck.

“Your ears are red, Professor,” he whispered with a smile. “How cute.”

I extracted my hand and pushed at his chest impotently, glaring all the while. “Stop that, Eddy Chen. I told you to run along.”

He laughed gaily and wrapped his other arm around my waist, pulling me in tight. Peering into my eyes, he wore a small, playful pout and said, “But I really, really, really like you, Professor. You know that, don’t you?”

The insolence of kids these days, I thought, even as a blush crept up my face. Again, I told him to stop it, to stop joking. Again, he continued on as if I hadn't spoken.

“And I won the competition the other day, so don't I deserve a small reward?”

"No. Winning _was_ your reward," I replied, exasperated. "But what is it you want?"

"A kiss..."

His gaze, always sincere, was now also ardent, burning with the flames of desire that he hadn’t yet learned to conceal. I shuddered and said nothing. Perhaps he had cast a spell on me, for I found myself frozen in place.

“Just one kiss, Professor…”

Helplessly, my eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in.


End file.
